Get Off the Pot
The awkward tension in his neck hadn't faltered for going on three weeks. Fret and worry had overtaken his thoughts, and he felt he couldn't slip away. Gregor, a young man of twenty, longed for something but wouldn't reach for it. He thought often of the generations that preceded him; wars fought, love gained and lost, lives lived, and memories made. And he wondered about those that would follow and his own children (if fate held such wonders for his curious existence). Often it was fear that accompanied this pondering about which he knew little or nothing. Fear of what he was missing, or going to miss, and regret about things he had already fouled up by simply not participating with any real contemplation. It was a cycle that led Gregor to the same inevitable conclusion: he needed to get on with it.
The love he felt in his heart had been beaten back and damn near stamped out by years of thoughtless neglect and what he felt was an apathy felt the world over. And of late he had faced demons powerful enough to grab a hold him and put the fight back in his heart. 'Today is the first day of the rest of my life,' he would often tell himself, and a voice inside would echo, 'tomorrow is another day,' whenever he needed to hear such things. The cycle would be broken, and the decision lay on the one person who did not want to make it; Gregor himself. One way or another the thing that made Gregor what he was, a good person, would stir him to stand up for what he believed in his heart. It was no longer time to think of his dreams as foolish merriment, or what could be; but rather what was going to be as soon as he decided to do something about it.
The love he felt in his heart had been beaten back and damn near stamped out by years of thoughtless neglect and what he felt was an apathy felt the world over. And of late he had faced demons powerful enough to grab a hold him and put the fight back in his heart. 'Today is the first day of the rest of my life,' he would often tell himself, and a voice inside would echo, 'tomorrow is another day,' whenever he needed to hear such things. The cycle would be broken, and the decision lay on the one person who did not want to make it; Gregor himself. One way or another the thing that made Gregor what he was, a good person, would stir him to stand up for what he believed in his heart. It was no longer time to think of his dreams as foolish merriment, or what could be; but rather what was going to be as soon as he decided to do something about it.